The Complications You Could Do Without
by Exhilaro
Summary: HP/DM. Instead of cursing Draco with Sectumsempra, they have a fight and Harry sees the Dark Mark on Draco's arm. Threatening to expose his secret, Harry demands Draco tells him what he knows of Voldemort and his plans. When he finds humanity in Draco, Harry isn't sure how to proceed.
1. Chapter one

**Disclaime**r: I don't own Harry Potter, the characters and places used and described in this story. All respective rights go to J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury.

**Warnings:** Slash, sexual content, bad language. (All at some point during the story)

**Summary:** Follows the story of The Half-Blood Prince: instead of cursing Draco with the Sectumsempra, Harry offers to help him find a way out. Harry confides in Draco about the horcruxes and everything he learns in Dumbledore's office, and together they try to find a way to destroy Voldemort and possibly save Dumbledore in the process. Somewhere along the way, they find out they feel more for each other than just friendship.

**Authors note:** This story has been forming in my head for quite a while and I thought I'd give it a go. I've been reading fanfictions for a while but I never really tried to write one myself, until now. That's why I think I could really use a beta-reader who could point me in the right direction. If you're up for it, let me know!

This story will be updated around once a week. Maybe once in two weeks. I don't know how busy I will be most of the time so I can't really give you an exact estimate. Enjoy! Critical reviews are most welcome.

* * *

Harry made his way through the crowd in the Gryffindor dormitories, exiting the busy common room through the portrait. He wandered the halls, not entirely noticing his surroundings or people around him. In his head was the ever raging battle: Ron or Ginny? Sometimes Harry thought Ron wouldn't mind if he dated Ginny, especially now that he was dating Lavender. But then he remembered the look on Ron's face when he saw Dean kissing Ginny, and he was sure Ron would see it as complete and utter betrayal if he ever made an attempt at dating Ginny. Shaking his head, he stepped up his pace, wanting to avoid hearing people whisper about the upcoming Quidditch match against Ravenclaw, or harass him for no apparent reason.

As usual, Harry found himself checking the Marauder's map for Malfoy's whereabouts, expecting him to be in the Room of Requirement. But this time, Harry stared at the Marauder's Map, his thoughts racing. Malfoy and Moaning Myrtle? What would Malfoy be doing in a girls' lavatory, spending his time with Myrtle? Harry looked around and realised he was only one floor above the girls' bathroom. He ran down the stairs and hurried toward the door. Pressing his ear against the solid wood, he stood in the hallway, wondering what he should do. Then he quietly opened the door, so as to not to disturb anyone.

Malfoy was leaning on his hands on the wash basin, his back facing Harry. He was crying, Harry realised with a shock. Malfoy's entire body trembled violently, and tears rolled down his cheek, into the sink. His blond hair was longer than normal, falling around his face. It looked almost grey in the light of the greasy, dirty bathroom. It appeared unwashed, unclean, just like his clothes. They were rumpled and stained. He was so unlike the usual Malfoy.

Moaning Myrtle was making soothing noises to calm Malfoy down, whimpering silently. Malfoy didn't even seem to notice her presence; he shut his eyes tightly, his lips parting and let out a choked cry. Harry was stunned. Never before had he seen Malfoy display an act of weakness. This was so surreal, Harry felt like he was in a dream, and he would wake up any second. He wanted to laugh, maybe. Or grab Malfoy and insisting on him stopping it. He didn't understand why Draco would do this. Harry couldn't stop the questions from forming. _Why is he here? Why does he cry?_ He wanted answers. He would get answers.

Suddenly, Malfoy lifted his head and looked in the cracked mirror. And before Harry could process what was going on, or open his mouth to speak, Malfoy turned around sharply and drew his wand out of his robe, pointing it at Harry's chest. But Harry was quick too, and he rushed forward and grabbed Malfoy's collar, pushing him backwards. His wand dropped to the floor, and Harry slammed him against the sink.

Now that he was in this position, Harry wasn't sure how to proceed. Demanding answers most likely would not work. This was Malfoy after all. He realises that he has been staring at Malfoy, and Malfoy's staring right back. His grey eyes are blood-shot and swollen.

"Where is your pride, Malfoy? Crying in a girl's lavatory? Never thought I'd see the day."

Hearing his voice seemed to wake Malfoy from his trance, and he threw in all his weight, to free himself from Harry's grip. Catching Harry by surprise, he fell backwards. Malfoy stumbled to his wand, and Harry reached for his. Pointing their wands at each other, they rose to their full height.

"What are you up to, Malfoy?" Harry's voice sounded forceful and quite loud in the quiet bathroom. Moaning Myrtle was crying softly, urging them to stop and go away. They both ignored her, focused on each other.

"What is it to you, Potter?" Malfoy spat out his name like it was something that hadn't seen daylight in years, like it was something dirty. Like it was something as filthy as the word 'Mudblood'. Harry cringed inadvertently. He hated when people pronounced his name like that. It reminded him of the way people used to whisper behind his back when they believed him to be a liar, an attention seeker. Malfoy moved his wand, his lips still trembling as he muttered a spell under his breath.

"Protego!" Harry yelled, rolling over and rising to his feet. The wood of a cubicle shattered behind Harry, his shield effectively protecting him.

_Sectumsempra. For enemies only. Was Malfoy his enemy? Could he cast the spell? _Deflecting Malfoy's spells, he wondered what the spell would do.

"Levicorpus!" And Malfoy was hanging upside down. Wasn't Malfoy a better duellist than this? Harry wasn't sure. He couldn't remember their duel in second year, since the snake had distracted him. He was sure he had an advantage on Malfoy, this time. Malfoy was still shaking and definitely slower than usual.

He moved rapidly. With a flick of his wand, Malfoy crashed to the floor, his wand rolling away. Harry balled his fists and before he knew it, it had connected with Malfoy's cheek.

"What are you up to? What are you doing here? And what are you doing in the Room of Requirement? Because it is my business if you're trying to pull something off that involves Death Eaters, Malfoy!" Harry was yelling. He punched Malfoy again. And again. And again.

"This isn't some game, Malfoy!" His hands gripped Malfoy's shoulders, shaking him, crashing his head against the floor. Myrtle cried, begging them to stop fighting, swooping around them, as though she was trying to pull them apart.

"Do you think I see this as a game?" Malfoy grabbed a hold of his wrists and tried to ease the death grip Harry seemed to have on his shoulders. Blood dripped from his lips and nose, drenching his white shirt under his robes.

"Why are you here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Potter!" Malfoy sprayed blood over his face as he yelled.

"I'm here because you are!"

"How would you know where —" Draco was cut off by Harry's successful attempt at exposing his forearm. The cufflink of his left sleeve fell to the floor, revealing the formerly hidden skin as the shirt fell open.

The black ink on the pale skin was a sight Harry would never forget.

He scrambled back as his eyes fell on the Mark, recoiling as if it had hurt him. Fuck! He had been right. But now that he was proven right, he wasn't sure if he wanted to be, because it meant Malfoy was really doing something of great importance to Voldemort, all the times he vanished of the Marauder's Map.

"So it's true then. You really became a Death Eater." The words hung in the air.

"Why?"

Malfoy didn't answer. He just sat there, watching the Mark on his arm. The snake moved ever so slightly now and then.

"ANSWER ME MALFOY!" Harry was infuriated with himself, with everyone who hadn't believed him when he told them about Malfoy. This could have been stopped before it ever happened. He tightened the grip on his wand, once again pointing it at Malfoy.

"Are you going to kill me, Potter? I didn't think you had the guts to kill someone, considering how you cried when you brought Cedric back after you put him through hell." Malfoy's voice was dripping with venom.

"It doesn't matter if you kill me or not! Because if I fail, someone else will come and replace me! I'm disposable, Potter. So go ahead. Kill me. It won't change anything."

"Let me help you!"

The words were out of his mouth before he could help himself. He was as stunned by the words as Malfoy was. Malfoy probably mirrored his expression. Malfoy started laughing, the sound bouncing of the walls, echoing back.

"And how do you propose you do that, Potter? Will you help me with my cause? The task I have been assigned to do? I hardly think so. The Boy Who Lived, aiding a Death Eater. Don't make me laugh."

"Not to be pedantic, but you're already laughing."

Harry rose to his feet. It made sense. If Malfoy told him what he knew about Voldemort, it could help him lead to the horcruxes. He would have a clear inside on what the Death Eaters were trying to do, what their plans were. He could use Malfoy for information that he otherwise never would have possessed.

This whole idea rested on the assumption Malfoy didn't actually want to be a Death Eater. If he did, this would be listed as number one on the list "Worst Ideas in Muggle and Wizard History Alike".

So he inhaled a sharp breath, looking Malfoy straight in the eye. "I find it hard to believe you chose to be a Death Eater." He watched Malfoy's expression carefully.

"I have much knowledge about Voldemort; more than he probably thinks I know," Harry ignored the way Malfoy flinched at the name. "I thought you were a Death Eater since the beginning of this year at Hogwarts. And now that I've actually seen the proof myself," Harry pointed at the Mark on Malfoy's arm, "I can always go to Dumbledore and tell him that you have been spending a lot of your free periods in the Room of Requirement. He might need some convincing, but I'm sure he'll listen to me."

"No wonder there. It's not a secret you're his favourite. His precious Chosen One."

"I'm just going to ignore that comment." Harry contemplated the movement for a instant, but then he put his wand in his robes. He fumbled with his robes for a moment, and then showed his empty hands to Malfoy, to show he wasn't holding a wand. They were still stained with his blood. Malfoy's blood.

"I know how to kill him. And I will kill him. If we help each other, we may be able to save ourselves in the process. You have information that might turn out to be quite valuable. And I can help you save your mother and possibly even your father. Not to mention, if you prove yourself to be useful, it might give your reputation that boost it so desperately needs." Harry didn't like the fact he was blackmailing him, but he needed to know what Malfoy had to say. He probably knew a considerate amount about Voldemort and his habits.

"Okay." Malfoy looked like he was going him to punch him, though.

"Okay?"

"Are you deaf, Potter? I said I will help you. But I have a few conditions."

"Tell me then."

"We will be doing this as equals. Just because you think you have something that could ruin me, doesn't give you the right to treat me as such." Malfoy slowly rose. He staggered slightly when he stood fully upright, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose as if he had a terrible headache, which wouldn't surprise Harry given how much he had punched Malfoy in the last few minutes.

"I will send you an owl with the meeting place and the time. And I will not help you with any other situations. You have to offer the first sign of trust. I'm not going to tell you everything I know without you offering something just as valuable." His grey eyes moved to his face, watching his expression.

Harry nodded. He'd do anything to increase his chances of defeating Voldemort.

Malfoy walked in the direction of the door.

"Oh, and Potter?" Harry turned around, and he saw Malfoy's fist headed for his face, but it was too late to evade it. He punched Harry on the nose, and he felt it break with an unpleasant snap of his bones. Blood spew in every direction, running down his mouth and dripping on the floor.

"Fuck you." And with a last murderous glance, Malfoy walked out of the lavatory.

_At least I was right about him being a Death Eater, _Harry thought to himself.


	2. Chapter two

**Author's note: **Chapter two! This is turning out to be much more fun than I thought it would be, so I have been writing a lot more than I first expected.

I just wanted to put it out there: this story is about the two of them growing up and learning things about themselves and each other they never thought could happen. Especially Draco, since he has been dragged along by others basically his entire life.

Without further ado, I present chapter two.

* * *

Draco winced. His body was hurting everywhere, and walking was extremely difficult.

No, he thought to himself. You are limping. Not walking. And not very elegantly too.

He leaned against a wall, trying to calm his breathing that seemed to have accelerated while he was trying to get as far away from Potter as possible, because he wanted to put as much distance between himself and the Golden Boy as fast as he could manage.

He groaned tiredly, deciding to go and see Madam Pomfrey. He didn't want to walk around like this for too long. He was bruising on every inch of his body, blood dripping from his face down his chin. He was sweaty, still shaking, his eyes sore and weary. He'd just tell her he had got into a fight with one of his classmates. It had happened before.

Trying very hard not to think about the things Potter had said and demanded of him, he didn't even notice professor Snape exiting one of the classrooms he had just staggered past, glancing at him curiously. He followed the trail of blood drops Draco had left behind, opening the door to the bathroom of Moaning Myrtle, his face twisting in a grim expression.

* * *

The next morning he woke up in a bed that didn't feel like his own. And for that perfect moment between sleep and consciousness, he felt good. He wasn't a Death Eater. He was just Draco, a sixteen year old boy who attended Hogwarts. But when he opened his eyes and he realised he was in the hospital wing, he sat up in an instant, gripping his head with his hands when a pounding headache presented itself.

Merlin. Resting his head in his hands, he wanted to cry. Potter knew. He fucking knew, and he had demanded Draco's help. Potter had recoiled from him like he was a poisonous snake when he had seen his Mark. Potter had seen him crying, shaking like a little girl. Showing weakness wasn't something that came natural to him, and knowing that Potter, Potter of all people, had seen him like that, and that Potter punched him square in the face and almost smashed his skull... He couldn't quite believe it.

His help. He wanted his help. Draco laughed humourlessly, the words sounding so strange and foreign it in his head almost seemed like a cruel joke.

Was his luck ever going to give him a fucking break? Why did it have to be Harry bloody Potter that saw him in that embarrassing state? Anyone would have been better. A bloody first-year, maybe. Or maybe even a Weasel.

Okay, it could have been worse. The Dark Lord could have seen him in that state.

Lifting his head, he inhaled some shaky breaths. He already had enough on his plate. Having Potter interfere with his plans couldn't possibly make matters worse. He was already at rock bottom. He couldn't turn to anyone or ask somebody for help. He wasn't even sure he wanted to do the task that had been assigned to him, and having Potter meddle in his business might be the best way out he could possibly get. Most likely the only way out. But he needed to make sure his parents' lives were safe, that his own life was safe. Now that he had time to process everything, he realised Potter hadn't even offered his help, Potter had simply blackmailed him into giving up information he had no right to divulge, and if he did tell Potter, he'd probably end up dead.

But what if he could help Potter kill The Dark Lord? What if they could, and Draco couldn't believe he was actually thinking this, help each other? Potter was such a martyr, he'd probably end up feeling sorry for Draco. If he gave him information, Potter would probably help him out, maybe even make Dumbledore offer him protection. Then he wouldn't have to kill anyone, and he would be free to do whatever he wanted.

Nevertheless, he wasn't going to help him without a fight. Potter needed him, too, maybe even more than he needed Potter. He was going to drag this out slowly, and painfully. Because Potter deserved it, the attention-whoring git. He was going to make sure he still had his own say in the matter, unlike with his father and The Dark Lord.

He wasn't going to let Potter know that he wouldn't mind if he told Dumbledore about his Mark. He was going to pretend he was being blackmailed, that he was only aiding Potter to save his parents. He wouldn't tell anything else but the information Potter required of him, and he would back out as soon as the coast was cleared. He wanted nothing to do with Potter when it had been clear from the start they would never be able to act civil around each other.

The only problem being that he didn't actually know what Potter was planning to use him for and what exactly it was he wanted from him, but Draco figured he was smart enough to not say anything stupid.

He wasn't going to go to any of his classes today, he decided. Nor was he going to show his face to his house mates in the Slytherin dungeons. They were probably wondering where he had been all night and he wasn't even sure what he would say if they asked. He had to think through what he was going to say to Potter.

But when he lifted the covers so he could get dressed, Draco noticed that for the first time in months, he was smiling.

Yes. This was going to work.

Reaching for his trousers, he realised he only had his blood-stained clothes with him. At that moment, Madam Pomfrey hurried his way, waving her arms and motioning for him to sit down.

"What do you think you're doing, getting out of bed? You're not leaving here today, Mister Malfoy! You were seriously injured and you're not entirely healed yet!"

She pushed him down on the bed, casting spells and moving around him. She kept on talking to him, but he didn't really listen. He felt a lot better and almost every bruise, cut and ache had been healed.

"I really need to leave, but I would like a potion for my headache." Madam Pomfrey eyed him angrily, but he ignored her. When she came back with the potion, he poured it down his throat, sighing contently when he felt his headache slowly dissolve into a slight throbbing that could easily be ignored. He stood up, reaching for his wand so that he could cast a cleaning charm on his clothes. He had never been really good at cleaning charms, but most of the bloody stains disappeared, the rest only visible when he held the fabric in the light. He put on his clothes and made his way to the Room of Requirement, leaving Madam Pomfrey with a worrying scowl on her face.

* * *

Later at six in the evening, he was wondering why he hadn't stayed in the hospital wing for the rest of his day. When he was on his way to the Room of Requirement, he had been asked to help with the new Seeker, since he was as stupid as Crabbe and Goyle. The head of the Slytherin team had developed the annoying habit of cornering him and begging him to come back as a Seeker. When he refused, he always ended with either "then you'd better help the new Seeker or I'm going to tell Snape". Today he had almost been throttled when he had refused, so he had said he'd try. Draco wasn't particularly looking forward to it, because he didn't find Quidditch as interesting as before, now that he had to work on killing his Headmaster. But he figured it might be a nice distraction from pondering over Potter and his motives. Luckily he had been able to avoid his friends today, spending him time in the Room of Requirement, reading. He had only come out to eat.

Feeling the early signs of another headache, Draco sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Sitting down on the benches in the locker room, he leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, hoping the pain in his head would fade soon. He was in his old Quidditch uniform, and it was too small for him. His father would kill him if he knew his son was in robes that didn't fit him, but he didn't want to stain his usual robes. The fabric was too nice to be spoiled.

"Appearances Draco. Nothing matters more than how you look. You can be anyone you want on the outside. Never show who you truly are." He had been five when his father had told him that. It made sense, in some ways. But all Draco wanted was to slump against the nearest wall and cry his eyes out. He wanted somebody to see him, and to extend their hand and say "it'll be okay, Draco. Just hang on." He wanted to show whom he really was. He couldn't quite figure out how to be himself without showing weakness. He didn't want to appear as soft as Potter, smiling and sacrificing himself for the greater good. He wasn't Lucius Malfoy, or Nacissa Malfoy. He mattered, too. He was himself. His last name might be Malfoy, but he was pretty sure no one else was named Draco.

Merlin, how he hated his name.

Draco found himself wondering if he should be honest with Potter. What if he told him about who he really was? He was curious about who Potter was. If he was honest, Potter might be too. He wondered what Potter's motives where for wanting his help. Or demanding it. He sighed, standing up and leaving the quiet, warm locker room for the cold wind outside. He shivered slightly, then slung his broom over his shoulder and made his way to the Quidditch Pitch.

"Draco!"

He turned around, seeing the third-year idiot that he was supposed to coach, coming his way. He sighed, wondering why he had agreed to this in the first place. He was going to beat the guy up if he opened his mouth, and seeing the stupid smirk on his face made him want to knock it right off his face.

Plastering a smile on his face, he stood up and walked towards the boy. His strides long and confident, chin in the air, Draco felt the corners of his mouth twitch into a real smirk.

Smacking the kid on his shoulder, he said "Look, something has come up. Please see to it that you don't fall of your broom in the upcoming match, since that would be a major improvement from the last, and I won't tell anyone that you have been snogging a Gryffindor in the Seventh floor corridor when you thought no one was looking. That's no way to display Slytherin tradition." There was no way he was going to spend his evening with a Slytherin who belonged in Hufflepuff. The guy probably couldn't catch the Snitch if it flew right in front of him.

The guy blinked dumbly, then nodded. His face was covered in mud. Most likely from falling off his broom. Draco chuckled, and he decided to fly for a while, it always helped him to clear his head. He could feel some of the weight that had been pulling him down, start to fade. He could still stand up for himself, even in these circumstances. Walking down to the Quidditch Pitch, he smiled weakly when he saw What's-his-name striding over to the girl Draco had caught him with.

When he reached the Pitch, he threw his leg over his broom and immediately pulled his broom upwards, feeling the wind howl in his ears. Flattening himself against his broom, he spend nearly an hour racing around the Hogwarts grounds, flying over the trees of the Forbidden Forest, his toes gracing the leaves, or racing towards the ground and pulling up in the last second, adrenaline pumping through his veins. His troubles were forgotten, even if it was for just a small amount of time. He didn't even notice people pointing in his direction. Flying was just marvellous, and he should definitely do it more often. Landing in the middle of the Quidditch Pitch, he stretched his muscles, feeling more relaxed than he had in weeks.

* * *

He reached for his bag in the locker room, rummaging through his books in search for some fresh parchment. He decided to write to Potter so he could meet with him. He came across the letter his aunt had send him yesterday. He held the parchment in his hand for while, shuddering when he remembered the words. Then he picked up his favourite quill, dipped it in ink and wrote on a new piece of parchment:

"Potter,

Tomorrow, 8 in the evening. Astronomy Tower."

He didn't even bother writing his name. He could come up with a whole set of different ways to write the message down, but it wasn't worth wasting his time over.

He changed quickly, wanting to send the letter before he would start to doubt if he made the right decision or not. He also wrote a short and cool reply to his aunt, telling her everything was going according to plan. And it was. But this time, it was his plan, and no one else's. He tucked his aunt's letter in his jeans pocket, deciding that he would show it to Potter tomorrow. It would be his way of showing he was to be trusted.

He had no idea what was going to happen tomorrow, and he had no idea what he was going to say or how he was going to act. But it didn't matter. He was getting out of this insane task of killing his Headmaster.


	3. Chapter three

**Author's note:** I have slightly altered the timeline of the Half-Blood Prince to fit this story better. This takes place just after Christmas break: Harry overheard Malfoy's conversation with Snape during Slughorn's Christmas party. Harry is still the captain of the Quidditch team, but Malfoy is not a Seeker because he is too busy with repairing the Vanishing Cabinet. Harry has told Dumbledore about the conversation he overheard, and is becoming increasingly irritated that nobody believes Draco is a Death Eater. Harry has also just heard for the first time about horcruxes, and Hermione has done research on them, so Harry knows what they are even before he acquired the memory of Professor Slughorn.

Because Harry didn't curse Draco, he doesn't get detention and he plays in the final match against Ravenclaw. Ron has not been poisoned yet and is still on the Quidditch team. So basically, I moved the event of Harry running into Draco in the girl's lavatory to half-way of the Half-Blood Prince, just to give them more time. If you have any question regarding the timeline, you can always message me.

I feel kind of obligated to say that this is going to be a **long** fic. I don't know how long exactly, but I really dislike stories where Draco and Harry's relationship is moving too quickly. Please bear with me while I struggle to make this story worth your time. :3

* * *

"Harry!" Hermione's waving hand in front of his face and Ron's voice woke him from his musings. Ever since he had run into Malfoy he couldn't stop thinking about the bloody git. He had thought about the entire scene over and over and over, and he always came to the conclusion that he made the correct choice. He just hoped Malfoy wouldn't make him regret this turn of events. Knowing him, he almost certainly would, but Harry couldn't think of a way for him to get out of their meetings. He couldn't leave Hogwarts, tell one of his friends or a teacher. Malfoy had to take the first step, too, and if he didn't, he knew what Harry would do. Harry grinned. It felt kind of good, to have so much control over Mal-

"Harry! Mate, you're starting to look like Looney Lovegood." Harry looked up to see both his friends closely watching him, Ron looking amused and Hermione with a worried frown on her forehead. Irritated that his thoughts were interrupted, he shook his head and continued eating his breakfast.

"What are you thinking about, Harry?" Closing the book in front of her, Hermione eyed him carefully.

Damn, she meant business. Hermione didn't stop doing her homework unless she had a very good reason.

"You have been out of it since the start of the year, but the last couple of days you have been staring into space with unremitting intensity."

"Yeah, it's starting to scare me. Anything you'd like to share?" Ron quickly shovelled an overflowing forkful of egg and sausage into his mouth, obviously only half-interested in what Harry had to say. His breakfast always came first.

"Is this about Ginny?" Hermione asked, smiling faintly.

Harry, who had just taken a sip of his pumpkin juice, felt his mouth fall open, pumpkin juice dripping down his chin. Ron choked on his sausage and Hermione sighed, undoubtedly not sure if she should be amused or irritated. Pointing her wand at Ron to clear his airway, she shot them both an cross look and pushed her plate away, calmly pouring herself some pumpkin juice.

"What?" Harry and Ron both exclaimed. Harry started blushing fiercely, and Ron turned to face him. Harry pretended to cough and hid his face in his napkin.

"Oh come on! Stop being so juvenile!" Hermione looked at them, irritation unmistakably striking her features.

"No, it's not about Ginny." Harry said, after clearing his throat.

"What is this talk about Ginny? I am right here! Someone explain what this is about!" Ron's ears had turned bright red.

"Oh stop it, Ron." Harry was relieved Hermione seemed uninterested in sharing any more. She turned to Harry again.

"Tell us, Harry. You can trust us."

Harry sighed. He still wasn't sure if sharing with them would be an intelligent idea, but on the other hand, they might be able to offer some advice about how to handle this.

Though he didn't think they would agree on his course of action. Ron would most likely choke on his food again, and then say he should have just sent Malfoy to Azkaban straight away, and Hermione would tell him to share the information with Dumbledore.

"I ran into Malfoy, yesterday."

They looked apathetic to that piece of information.

"Look mate, this fascination with Malfoy is getting kind of old." Ron's ears were still red and it was apparent that he wanted to steer the conversation back to Ginny.

"Harry, is that why your nose was broken? Were you fighting with him?"

"I did fight with him, yes, but you never guess what I found out."

"Where did you come across him, anyway? Doesn't he usually spend his time in the Room of Requirement?" Ron looked relatively interested now, and he cleaned his plate quickly and turned his attention to Harry. Hermione started packing her book bag, not wanting to participate in the conversation.

"Maybe we shouldn't discuss this here", Harry said, not wanting anyone to accidentally eavesdrop on their conversation.

They rose from their seats and left The Great Hall. Harry shot a short glance at the Slytherin table. Malfoy wasn't present, but all his friends were, and they appeared to be talking to each other quite animatedly, their heads close together. He turned his head away, not even wanting to know what they were talking about. He already had an adequate amount of trouble to deal with.

They walked to half-hidden alclove close to the entrance of the Gryffindor common room. Harry wanted to make sure no one overheard what he was about to say, and this way he could detect if someone was approaching them. After an assessment of the area surrounding them, Harry turned to his friends.

"I was going to The Great Hall for dinner, when I checked the Marauder's map and-"

"You really need to stop watching that thing, Harry!"

"Let me finish!" Interrupting Hermione before she'd start giving a lecture, Harry made a face at her.  
"I saw him in the girls lavatory, with Moaning Myrtle." Pausing to see if he had their interest, he continued.

"I found that a rather odd combination", he said, crossing his arms over his chest as to take a defensive stance at Hermione's judgmental look, "so I went there to look. When I walked into the bathroom, I saw he was crying. And not the "one-perfect-tear-rolling-down-his-cheek" kind of crying, but full on sobbing."

Harry heard footsteps behind him, and he groaned in frustration. Would he ever be able to finish what he was trying to tell his friends? He turned around, to see Creevey walking towards him, waving a letter.

"Harry! This came for you during dinner, but you had already left! So I came to deliver it for you!" Creevey beamed at him, handing the letter to Harry.

"Thanks. I owe you one." Hastily tearing open the letter and ignoring Creevey's excited chatter, he felt a huge grin spread on his face when he read Malfoy's words scribbled down on a piece of parchment. He shoved the letter in his pocket before Ron and Hermione could start asking questions, and after confirming Creevey had left, he continues with his story. Both Ron and Hermione seemed eager to find out more.

"When he saw me he tried to curse me, but I was too fast, and I knocked him over. We started fighting and then, well... I wanted to verify if he really was a Death Eater or not." Their eyes went wide. His words hung in the air, and Ron and Hermione looked like they couldn't quite believe what he had just said.

"He is. I saw his Mark myself."

Ron and Hermione started talking at the same time.

"Why didn't you tell us last night?"

"Harry, you should tell Dumbledore imme-"

"Would you let me finish!" Harry ran a hand through his hair, starting to feel the smallest amount of annoyance at his friends for always interrupting him.

"I didn't know what to do, at first. I pointed my wand at him and he thought I was going to kill him, or hurt him, and he let it slip he was doing something for Voldemort. So I threatened to expose him, unless he supplies me with information." Hermione looked like she was about to burst, and Ron suppressed a chuckle when he saw her face. Ron never would have laughed if that face had been directed to him, but Harry chuckled nonetheless.

"Why do you think he will be of use? He could be lying, for all that matters! Or worse, lead you into a trap! It's too dangerous, Harry. You should tell Dumbledore straight away!"

Harry hadn't thought of the possibility of Malfoy lying to him but he came to the conclusion that Veritaserum was always an option.

"Look, Hermione, this is a chance we've not had before. He is doing something of great importance to Voldemort, why else would he be doing it straight under Dumbledore's nose?If I get him to talk, maybe he can give us leads on the horcruxes, and even if that doesn't work, I can still stop whatever the hell he is doing! If I tell Dumbledore, I will never find out what he knows."

Harry took the note from his pocket and showed it to Ron and Hermione.

"He sent me a note, he wants to meet me tonight."

Ron read the note and then laughed quietly. "The Astronomy Tower? So he can pitch you of the bloody thing when you piss him off?"

"Ronald! This isn't a joke! Malfoy could really do something to hurt him!" It was very clear Hermione didn't agree with what he had done, just as he had predicted.

"Well, now you know where I'll be. If I'm not back within two hours, you can come look for me. But I will be going and I don't care what you think."

Hermione eyed him carefully, in obvious disbelief. "I can't believe you would risk it."

"I'll be okay, Hermione. You know where I am, and I don't think Malfoy would hurt me. At least, not too bad. He knows what's at stake, and he would do anything to save his parents, even spend time with me."

"I know you will be okay, Harry. I just don't think you've thought this through thoroughly. You have no idea how Malfoy feels about your intrusion, and for all you know he could have contacted one of his fellow Death Eaters and lure you into some sort of trap. You have no idea what he is planning, or what his intentions are. I'm not just worried about your safety, but about everyone's safety. I don't think that Malfoy has been assigned an easy task and I just hope you're careful. If you notice anything off, you have to promise me you'll tell Dumbledore straight away."

"I understand, Hermione. I do. I just hope he can help in some sort of way before I have to tell Dumbledore." He smiled at Hermione, then noticed then Ron seemed relatively quiet.

"Ron?"

"I really need to know what Hermione meant about Ginny."

* * *

After his classes, where one of which had turned out to be quite the disaster after he melted a cauldron and covered Ron and Hermione in nasty bulges, he rushed to The Great Hall to eat a few bites of his dinner. He had Quidditch practice and he hadn't exactly been the team captain everybody hoped he would be, so he couldn't be late. As he ran around to fetch all of his Quidditch gear, he kept wondering what Malfoy was going to say, what he would do.

En route to the changing room, he ran into Fred and George, and soon he had forgotten all about Malfoy and was drawn into the world of strategies, cursed bludgers and who was a better Seeker: Harry or Viktor Krum. Ron, who still deeply disliked Krum, went to great lengths to defend Harry and he was quite heated up by the time they reached the training field.

"Okay guys! Listen up!" Harry looked around to see if everybody was paying attention. He saw Ginny and running toward them and he felt himself blush. Quickly turning sideways so Ginny couldn't see his face, he continued.

"The match with Hufflepuff is coming up soon, and even though I think we are more than ready, I wanted to practice some of the basics. I already went through the tactics with all of you, and I really hope you will turn to me if you have any questions." Everybody looked excited and Harry walked towards the box that contained the balls. He reached for the Quaffle and threw it to Ginny.

"Ginny, you, Demelza and Dean practice the usual. Make sure to emphasize on blocking and regaining the Quaffle. Ron, I want you to join them, and at the end of the training we will have a short match. Give each other tips on how to improve!"  
"Coote and Peakes, you two will train with me today." Harry smiled at the two boys, and he was so drawn into the practice session, he didn't even notice Malfoy watching him, hands in his pockets, his eyebrows pursed in a worried frown, biting his bottom lip. He watched Harry for a while, but turned around when he saw him laughing with Ron and Ginny. Walking towards the castle, Draco wondered if he could ever laugh like that.

* * *

After practice, Harry didn't even bother showering and left in a hurry. Ron took care of diverting the questions the team might have about his sudden departure, and it was moderately easy to reach the Astronomy Tower. Practice had gone really well, and even Ron had done excellent. If they continued to deliver like this, they would most likely win the upcoming match.

Harry's heart was slamming against his chest and his head and hands were clammy by the time he reached the door that lead to the tower. So much depended on this. If Draco could help him, it would completely turn his chances in the war around. He might actually stand a chance at winning.

He opened the door, and saw Malfoy leaning against one of the window frames, looking over the Quidditch pitch. His face was covered in an eerie glow from the setting sun, and he looked tired.

Shaking his head, Harry slammed the door behind him. That seemed to wake Malfoy from his reverie, and he turned around sharply to face Harry. He staggered slightly on his feet, Harry noticed.

"You couldn't have been on time, now could you, Potter?" Malfoy's expression turned to the usual sneer he seemed to carry when he was near Harry.

"Well, excuse me for having actual plans for an evening, Malfoy."

"How is this going to go? You expect me to write you a date and time, you point your wand at me, feed me Veritaserum, maybe even bind me, and then demand answers to questions?"

Harry reached for the small vial of Veritaserum he had in his robe pocket. He took it out and held it in his hand, eyeing Malfoy's reaction as he did.

"Do you need Veritaserum, Malfoy? Are you going to lie? Lure me into some sort of ambush? Kill me when I'm not looking? I can't take any risks, you see. I have people depending on me."

"I don't need a truth potion, Potter."

"Then tell me about pureblood culture." Harry noticed Malfoy's stunned expression and smirked at him in spite of himself. He and Hermione had talked about the best way to approach this, and had come to the conclusion to cover some neutral ground at first, maybe trying to understand the importance of blood purity that Voldemort so desperately fought for.

"Only if you tell me about Muggle culture."


End file.
